


A Close Thing

by purplestarfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Deaf Clint Barton, First Meetings, M/M, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplestarfish/pseuds/purplestarfish
Summary: It didn’t happen at first sight, but it was a close thing.In his defense, it didn’t have anything to do with what Coulson looked like.





	A Close Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really short ficlet, which I wrote thinking it could probably be a prologue for something, but I haven't thought through what that story would look like, so I'm posting it as is. Let me know what you think and if you have any ideas for a continuation!
> 
> No warnings that I can think of, but let me know if I missed anything you'd want flagged.

It didn’t happen at first sight, but it was a close thing.

 

In his defense, it didn’t have anything to do with what Coulson looked like.

 

He’d realized someone was tailing him a few weeks prior, and had been successfully dodging them at every turn. That lasted right up until it didn’t.

 

Now he was standing on a rooftop, bow and arrow fallen to the ground beside him, staring down the barrel of a gun. In his peripheral vision, he could make out the government helicopter still whirring directly above him.

 

He had nowhere to go.

 

He knew if he tried to run, or to reach for his bow, or to fight back, the man in the dark sunglasses and black Armani suit could have him down before he made it six inches. He was going to have to do whatever the man said, or he was going to die. Hell, he might die anyway.

 

He was at the man’s mercy.

 

And he could tell that the man knew that too.

 

So there was no logical explanation for why the man said, “ _I don’t want to hurt you, Barton,_ ” lips articulating clearly like he could tell Clint was reading them – the fact that he knew Clint’s real name didn’t surprise him half as much as the intent behind those words.

 

Likewise, there was no good reason for why the man carefully lowered and holstered his weapon, reached into his pocket and, instead of handcuffs or a Taser, pulled out a small piece of paper – a business card, Clint realized in bemusement.

 

And there was certainly no accounting for the way the man handed Clint the card, said, “ _I want to offer you a position at S.H.I.E.L.D. Just think about it_ ,” and then walked off, his back to Clint – an easy target – and motioned casually for the helicopter to lower its ladder. Or the way he then left Clint there, alone, giving him every opportunity to just pick up his bow and arrow and run across town to where he was already several minutes overdue to meet his mark.

 

There was no explanation for any of it, but that’s what he did.

 

Clint looked at the card in his hand. _Phillip J. Coulson_ , it read.

 

_Well shit_ , Clint thought. _I guess I’m in love now, huh?_


End file.
